Penned Up Emotion's

I am alone inside the dark cupboard. A thick layer of dust sits on me. All the fluid inside me has dried up. I am 'statue' for all practical purposes.But i am not a statue either. I am still alive. I can still be useful. In the hands of my master i can do many things. There was a time when my master used to use me,take care of me all the time. I am hero, was and still is.Now only in name. I still remember the day when i was picked up my master in the stationary shop.I was his first fountain pen.The very first!The unbridled joy and enthusiasm on his face still makes my day. .He was very young not more than 9 years old at that time.Initially he did not know how to fill the ink.He struggled for quite sometime. At times , his hands(eventually his face),shirt, hair were filled with ink stains. But overtime he mastered it. I was used for his Class work , Home Work, Unit Test, Class Tests, Mid term exam, Final exam and eventually even for the diaries he kept. His day began with me and ended with me. Then as he grew older he was introduced to my evil cousin ball point pen. They are useless bunch i tell you. They –use and throw types don't have a identity. I am pretty sure my master would have thrown loads of them in dustbin. However, those slim so called pens have destroyed our community. We are now relegated to the dark cupboard's. Only recently I heard there was a ad on the TV which involved one of members of the community. I hope the golden age will come back; at least for our community if not for me.